Sunday, May 28, 2006

Andalite again, har de har

It's another doodle caused by's an Andalite, of course. If you don't know what an Andalite is, well, ask me to explain sometime, when I am not halliucinating from tiredness and the walls have stopped moving. kthnxbi

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Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Werewolves are real.

Werewolves are real. Here are a few small reasons as to why.

There are several reasons why I think that werewolves, or, something akin to our perception of werewolves, exist. I have many theories, but I can't be arsed to write them all down.

First argument: The myth of the werewolf, exists in so, so many cultures. And I mean, there have been legends of people who turn into wolves in all sorts of countries, all over the world. England, France, Greece, etc. They all have different names. Now consider the fact that, in the ages such as, I don't know, the 1500s or whatever, these countries are not going to have any means of communication. No phones, no TV, no postal service, etc. So it can not be a conspiracy, and they did not copy each other. Yet the legend of the werewolf pops up, in almost identical variations, across the globe. Before we had communication. This suggests to me, that there is something tangible to the werewolf legend. There just has to be something to it, for the same creature to pop up, over and over in countries that had absolutely no contact with each other.

In France, it was called the Loup Garou. In England, it was called the werewolf. In Greece, it was called the Lycanthropos, named after the Greek god Lycaeon. In Italy, it was called the Luparo Mannaro. In Sweden it was called the Varulv. In Russia it was called the Vurdulak. I could go on, with more countries. The point is, all these countries, so far away from each other, with no communication, all have exactly the same legend. This says to me that werewolves exist. It's one of the strongest arguments.

I also had some theories as to how they could physically exist, which involved advanced mutation, sped up with a catalyst or adrenaline of some sort. If a caterpillar can turn into a butterfly, why can't one mammal turn into another? There are stranger things in this world than the idea of werewolves. Truth. I don't want to go into the more scientific explanations though, they are boring. Plus I am crap at science, and proud.

Now consider the fact, that werewolves do kind of exist. Lycanthropy is a real disease. As far as I know, it became most well known in the middle ages. Lycanthropy is a disease that causes the sufferer to lose their human mind and resort to the instincts of a beast. You may have seen the woodcuts depicting the results. Graphic images of men on their hands and knees, with babies in their mouths, feasting on human flesh with their hands curled into paws. Real disease. It was caused by bread, actually. Bread that (as far as I can remember) went mouldy, and this caused some reaction in the wheat, which caused lycanthropy. Look:

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Did you know that the full moon has an effect on human beings? It's true. Not massive, not extremely noticeable, but there none the less. Things like, an increase in human blood pressure, and heart rate. I have not really found the explanation for this, all I know is that it happens. There are more murders commited under the full moon, than under any other stage of the moon. The moon has also been said to cause madness. It explains the origin of the word 'Lunatic'. <--see the 'luna' in the word?

With regards to the living on raw flesh, supernatural strength, and possibly a delayed ageing process, all these things are entirely possible with the aid of things such as drugs, adrenaline, and even being born with abnormalities. It's just in olden times, it would be less obvious how these things would have been achieved, and therefore, there was much more of a sense of magic about them. Eg: In the 1500s, if someone saw a man bending a tree in half with his bare hands, they would have screamed "Werewolf!" but nowadays, they would assume he was on steroids, or on an extrme adrenaline rush as a result of fear or desparation or something. Point is, inhuman physical strength is entirely possible.

Take the facts that, the myth of the werewolf is all over the world, despite the lack of communication at the time. The fact that, animals in the natural kingdom do shift their shape. Bugs, granted, but still. And the fact that stranger things exist than werewolves. Like the fact that U2 are still going. Still going! The fact that lycanthropy, losing your mind and becoming a beast, is a real disease, and finally, the fact that the full moon has a definate effect on the human body, and I think that we are on to something.

I'm going to stop talking now before I write an essay. I also have theories on why vampires could physically exist too. To be honest, they are more likely to exist than werewolves. It is physically possibly for vampires to exist.

But I love the werewolves.

There are some people out there who claim to be werewolves. Some are nutters. No, almost all are nutters and wannabes. Furrywannabes, is a term I am fond of. (All you alleged therians can sod right off, most of you fall into the category) But, there is one man called Gypsy whose story intrigues me very much. I think he might be, well, something. I don't know what. But something.

Werewolves are many other things too, besides a definite myth, and a possible reality. They are metaphors in films and literature for many things. Human functions and desires and fears, among other things. Werewolves can represent so many things. I wrote an essay for English about how werewolves are metaphors for male sexual desire, across several films, several books, and several fairy tales. Most fun essay I have ever written, I went about 500 words over the 2500 word limit and spent about a day cutting stuff out...

So werewolves do exist. Whether they, to you, are a metaphor, a myth, or a reality, something in between, or all three, is entirely up to you and your perspective.

Friday, May 19, 2006

Celtic stuff


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On a more serious note, this sod nearly killed me. It's symmetrical in terms of structure, but the opposite of symmetrical with regards to the weave. If a weave goes over on the left, then it's reflection must go under on the right. If it goes over on the right, then it's reflection must go under on the left. Furthermore, the entire weave, which can be followed with your eyes (or your finger if you're tired) continiously alternates, in the sense that it goes under, over, under, over, under, over, without fail, whether it's crossing over sides or not.

I'm still not finished, I've got to pencil it again yet.

My head hurts.

Sunday, May 14, 2006


I just put my corset on all by myself with no help and now I am so proud of myself. I nearly dislocated my shoulders, but I don't care. Now I wonder how long I can keep it on before I start to get that feeling that's a bit like internal bleeding, but not. My record is seven hours. And I was up and about for all those hours. I felt like passing out. But I didn't, I'm hardcore! Or stupid. Take your pick.

No wonder all those Victorian women used to faint all the time. You know that scene in Pirates of the Caribbean where Kiera Knightly is getting laced up in one, looking somewhat in pain, and she says something like "Well women in London must have figured out how to not breathe!"

Amen to that. When it's done up right, you can't take full breaths, only half ones, or less. Your ribs just are not able to expand that far. If it's a hot day, you're going down. We're crazy. We really are.

Getting one of these confounded contraptions on when you have someone to help you is easy...doing it all by yourself is, uh, an experience. Mainly you look really stupid. It involves slipping the loose garment over your head, and then lacing it up in criss cross patterns, left to right, left to right, over and over, all the way down your back. If you know me you will know that my shoulders are already busted, so it's extra hard. And then, you have to perform these weird manouvres that look very similar to pseudo tennis warming up excercises, involving trying to pull the lace crosses tight across your back and waist. You end up twisting and spinning around on the spot and burning your fingers and swearing bloody murder a fair bit, let me tell you.

Why do I, and others who love corsets, do these things? For me, it's nothing other than the entirely acceptable reason that is 'It's, like bloody FUN!!'

It's just an experience that everyone should try. I know the idea of having your ribs restricted sounds horrible, but it's still rather cool...your torso gets contstricted and shrunk until you resemble one of those Disney heriones. Except you don't burst into song at the most sporadic moments about your dreams and desires, which I am only grateful for. I rather don't think it's my style.

It's not done quite as well as last night's attempt, I can tell this by the fact that I can breathe adequetely, am close to something that might resemble comfort from a distance, and my sides don't hurt. Bah. I blame still being tired from the previous ordeal, for my sub par performance this time.

I am getting better. If I practice enough, I shall be able to do it all by meself. That, or I shall dislocate my shoulders again. Either or! I shall press on.

The only downside, besides the lack of oxygen intake, is the fact that when you finally take the thing off, you feel like an absolute whale as you resume your normal shape. No matter how small you are.

Ho hum.

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Daddy Long Legs

Help me. I'm being invaded by bugs. Clever bugs, at that.

Last night, I accidentally left my window open, and went out for quite a few hours. I live on the third floor, and the window only opens about four inches, so there's no danger. But that was enough time for me to acquire some new friends.

You know those bugs, that people call Daddy Long Legs? Stupid name. But I don't know the official name. Anyway, I have managed to attract two of them into my room. It's now the day after.

I got annoyed with the buffeting around my bedroom all night when I was sleeping, making noise, so today upon discovering them when I woke up, I went up to my curtains (which are always closed) and opened my window again, hoping that they would be clever enough to go back out the way they came in. I forgot that I wasn't wearing that much, and shoved the curtains closed immediately. I told the bugs I'd be back, went and found some more clothes, and went to check whether they had left the premises. No such luck. They refused to acknowledge the open window, preferring to throw themselves against my bedroom walls, to high up for me to reach, goddamn stupid bugs. That was several hours ago.

I asked my friend whether they bite, and she said no, but that they were poisonous when swallowed. I felt somewhat better, because although they were pissing me off, I did not plan to swallow them in self defence.

They're really creepy..they are all legs and they've these really long proboscis things that you can see, and I don't know what they do with them! Wouldn't you be cautious of a creature with a mouthpart bigger than it's head? It's unnatural! And there were two of them! One big and one small. And they can be quite big buggers too, you know.

So I spent quite a few hours waiting patiently for them to find their own way out. No such luck. Eventually I got so annoyed, I took a tea towel to them and beat them behind the curtains, so that the only way that they could go, was out the window. I then left them for a while.

...I came back, to find both of them stuck to the closed window, now moving. Sigh. So I left them again.

I left them, until I noticed the big one shoot upwards, over the top of the curtains, and back into my bedroom. Exasperated, I went and opened the curtains, upon which the second bug flew right out and smacked me in the forehead. I kid you not.

I jumped back, had a small outburst of rage, and stomped off to turn off the lights. I did so, and stood with my finger on the light switch for a minute, inwardly going 'Aha! You've got no where to go but outside now!' Oh I was very proud.

...and then after about two minutes, I got really bored, and put the lights back on again. Then, I noticed that one of the buggers was on my floor. Where I could reach him.

I pondered between killing him, and capturing him, for a few seconds. If I killed him, I could definately make him go away...but it was too easy, he was just sitting there. With his back to me, no less. 'S not honourable. (don't get me wrong though, if he was a wasp, I woulda been like **SMACK!!**) But anyway, I decided to capture him. I swooped on him with a glass and an essay, and captured his buggy arse. I walked him to the window, held the glass out the window, removed the essay, and shook him out..

Upon which, he executed a perfect U Turn, and flew right back into my room.

I am not joking.

I think I swore rather loudly, apologies to anyone below my window. All the while the bigger one resumed throwing his body against my bedroom walls. I don't know where the small one is now. Probably hiding amongst the clothes in my wardorbe, going "Har de har de har!" really quietly.

What the fark is it with these bluddy bugs? And why, why why why, did they go into my room when I was out in the first place?? The window is open four inches, and the lights are off, but somehow, two of them find their way from outside, into my bedroom, when they have the ENTIRE WORLD to fly around in?



I want them out, because if I don't get them out, they will die, and then they will fall somewhere where I can't see them and then there will be buggy corpses in my room and I will know that they are there but not know where they are and I will go mad. Like they do in the stories.

Thursday, May 04, 2006


I found some interesting videos. Links below.

Homophobia is gay. - How ironic. I like this.

Anti respect for dead soldiers/Anti gay protests. - This one, however, is going on my already extensive list of reasons why we should hate religion. Well, more accurately, she is.

Another Bloody Andalite

I need sleep. Ugh. So bad.

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Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Visser Three again

I did a scribble in my English lecture. It was about Wordsworth, I think, I am not sure. It was boring. So I started doodling. This is me being bored/trying to stay awake/getting biro all over my fingers because THAT'S SO FUN and stuff. Ehm, it won't make any sense if you haven't read the Animorphs series by KA Applegate.

Don't you sometimes just want to go for a good old run? And sometimes, if you are really daring, go for a good old leap? Visser Three does. Visser Three was having a hard time of it, poor hellslug bent on world domination that he was. He sometimes felt like he was unpopular, like he had no friends. Don't you just hate that? Alloran was the only one close to him, and he regularly told him to go roll under the foot of an overweight Jubba Jubba. So it didn't really count.

He couldn't help decapitating anything that spoke. It was a nervous twitch, and he's had it since he was a young Yeerk. He was very sensitive about it. But still no one understood.

Visser Three sighed.

Only yesterday, Sub Visser Fifteen, had said that his fur was poofy! Now Visser Three could take some criticism. He could understand people saying that his fur was fluffy, yes. Even wild! He could even accept dishevelled to the point of anarchy. But poofy? Well that was just mean.

And so Visser Three ran. And leaped! He was just a big blue puppydog really. And when no one was looking...he frolicked.

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Ohh my

I have soaked up so many different aspects of culture within the last few months. I have viewed all three series of The L Word, as well as the entire huge Wolf's Rain series. I have reread almost all the Animorphs series, and I have also almost finished reading the entire very large Sandman series by Neil Gaiman.

You know that scene in Ice Age two, where Scrat gets that massive collar of ice around his neck, falls over, and rolls around in a circle?

I feel like him. I'm so full on new culture that I am going to fall over, and go rolling around in circle. I might squeak like him too, you never know.